Running Away From Time
by bacchantes
Summary: Alba DeTamble is getting pretty fed up of time travel. The naked part is humiliating. A chance meeting with Chicago's only wizard leads to a whirlwind romance, and Harry Dresden's here to tell you the story.
1. Chapter 1

I was walking back to the apartment/my office, when I saw her. This glorious young thing, with auburn hair down to her elbows and pale skin like porcelain. I couldn't help it. I had to go talk to her.

"Excuse me, miss, did you drop this?" I shouted, holding out a ten dollar note. I had no idea what I was doing. I'm not good at spontaneous decisions, okay?

"Huh," she said, approaching me (always a good start) and plunging her hands in her bag, pulling out a glamorous looking wallet. She unbuttoned it, tapping the top of each bill inside, and shook her head. "No, I don't think that's mine. I have everything I should have. That was very generous of you, sir."

"Oh, I would do the same for anyone," I lied. In all honesty, if some suit dropped a wad of cash, I'd pocket it. I'm broke; he'll live!

"That is so kind," she said, grinning hugely. Wow, she had some amazing teeth. I don't normally notice teeth, but _wow_. "Who are you? I don't think I've seen you here before."

"Harry Dresden, at your service. I'm, uh, in the book."

"Oh, I know who _you _are. The magic man, right?" she smiled, the corners of her smooth pink lips curling up. Damn, I need to get laid more.

"Wizard, yes. And no, I don't do parties."

"Of course not," she said seriously. "Could I possibly make an appointment? It seems so hasty really, but since we're both here-"

"You can come over now, if you're free. I, er... I think I'm free this afternoon." More like, I haven't had an appointment for three weeks and I _really _need some rent, or a beautiful woman to wake up to in the morning so I can forget the imminent debt for a little while longer.

"Really? Well, if you're sure – lead the way."

We weren't far from my building, which was in part a disappointment. I studied her in my peripheral vision, wondering what she could possibly need with me.

"So... here we are. You don't have any problems with lifts? It's a bit rickety and has a tendency to break down," I said, leaving out the part that it only breaks down when _I'm _in it.

"No problem," she said coolly. I raised my eyebrows and jabbed the button, tapping my foot while we waited. The doors trembled their way open and we entered the cramped tin can, watching the doors judder shut again.

"I didn't actually catch your name," I said, as the lift started upwards with a stomach destroying swoop.

"Miss DeTamble," she said, staring vacantly ahead. I was starting to wonder if she was such a good idea, when the lift doors opened. She moved out, looking at me expectantly.

"This way," I said, walking her to the door. I gave her a "two minutes" hand movement as I struggled with the lock.

"An unusual place for an office, Mr Dresden," she said, leaning casually against the wall. I worried for her fancy coat, but the lock had finally given in and the door was open.

"Do come in," I said. "I've had to move my office into my apartment due to... lack of funding. Not to worry, I keep it clean," I said, guessing she might be a prude.

She stepped in and looked around curiously, eyeing my bookshelves.

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

"Not at all," I said, slipping my coat off and hanging it up. Normally I would kick my shoes off into the corner, but... well, not today. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Coffee, black, thank you," she said, sliding out a leather bound tome and running her slender fingers along the spine. I got it, and a large Coke for myself, and sat down behind me desk, popping her coffee opposite me in a "hey, I want you to sit down now" kind of motion. She drifted over, picked up the cup and drifted back to my books again, sipping happily. Exasperated, I flopped back in my seat and gulped down my Coke, waiting for her to remember I was here. In the end I faked a coughing fit until she looked at me.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," cough a couple more times for good measure, "just you take your time browsing before your appointment." Just a smidgen of sarcasm so she takes the hint without being offended...

"I suppose I can peruse them when we're done," she said. My stomach knotted itself, as it seemed like she actually enjoyed my presence... and I hadn't even miserably failed to woo her yet.

She sat down opposite me, placing her cup on my desk, and laced her fingers together, looking at me deeply. I struggled to avoid eye contact – she had such beautiful eyes – and cleared my throat.

"What appears to be the problem?"

"Could I possibly ask of you, to put up some sort of screen? It sounds unusual but-"

"I have heard much weirder requests," I said, grabbing a clothes horse and draping towels over it. "This do?"

"I guess," she said, standing behind it and looking at me... wow, was she looking at me seductively? "You can come look after, but be sure to be on that side of this within thirty seconds or I will break your nose."

I didn't even have time to reply before she disappeared.

I gaped at the space where her pretty head had been. I edged towards the clothes horse; behind it there was nothing but that expensive coat, a sleek red dress and a pair of shoes. I didn't dare move the clothes to look for underwear, in case she came back. Instead, I hurried back to my desk to sit and wait for her to return.

When she did, there was no spark; no bang; no puff of cloud. One second there was nothing, the next, she was standing there, her bare shoulders visible over the clothes horse.

"Excuse me one moment while I dress," she said. When she bent down to pick up her clothes I saw the slightest glimpse of arse and then she was upright again, slipping her arms into her bra and shimmying back into her dress. She didn't put the coat back on, but draped it over a chair before coming to sit opposite me again.

"I would imagine then, that the problem is your, er... lack of clothing? You haven't really clarified what you did," I said, drumming my fingers on the desk.

"Time travel. I went about five minutes into the future, right here. Don't be too afraid when I pop up," she said. Her cheeks were very flushed, which made me wonder what exactly I should expect when she "popped up".

"And you would like to stop time travelling naked, I take it?"

"Yes. Is there anything you can do?"

"I can't say I've met a time traveller before. I really have no idea how you even do that, never mind how to stop aspects of it. I would like to study you more closely, along with doing some research with my – er – my research partner Bob. Of course, if you don't want me to help-"

I was cut off by the appearance of a very naked Miss DeTamble in front of me, looking mildly disorientated. The clothed woman leapt up and stood in front of her naked self, and I suddenly felt very bemused. In a moment, the naked version was gone and the clothed one sat back down.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, looking horrified. "I guess I misjudged it; I don't always have the best control over exactly where I appear."

"Um... yeah."

"I would very much like you to study me, Mr Dresden. Please, do not be offended, but since we are both humans much unlike any other, I think I would take a bizarre kind of solace in spending time with you."

"Is that a fancy way of asking me out on a date?"

"Pretty much," she said, shrugging. "I can pick you up, at seven. Tonight? For dinner?"

"Wow. Yeah, sure," I said, stunned. I don't know what I did differently, but _damn _does it work.

"One last question before I leave, Mr Dresden. Why do you always avoid my gaze? You have not once looked me in the eye."

"Oh, that's a long story. Very long. I'll tell you all about it tonight?"


	2. Chapter 2

After she left, I realised I didn't even know her first name. That was fine, for now. She'd scribbled two phone numbers down on the back of a receipt – on inspection, she'd bought a few books which looked interesting – and promised she'd return at seven, exactly. Somehow, just from looking at her, I knew she was the right-on-time-to-the-very-second type.

I went to the bathroom to take a look at myself. Surprisingly, I didn't look quite as unkempt as usual, but I definitely needed a shave and a shower. My hair was getting long, too, but that didn't matter – after all, it disguised the chunk of it missing just behind my right ear. I get a little careless making potions, much to Bob's dismay, and some potentially soul destroying goo smacked me in the ear a few months back. Bob doesn't think the hair will ever grow back, but he's a cynical old soul so I don't take his opinions to heart. In all honesty, I don't think I look too bad with long hair.

I stripped off and turned the shower on, hoping it wouldn't punish me too severely today, and grabbed a razor before I hopped in. One of my many skills is being able to shave while I'm washing my hair – it's always handy to shower quickly, because on one occasion I have actually been caught out while showering. Running naked through the streets of Chicago with shampoo in your hair? Never a good plan. Trust me.

Four minutes later – not my best time, nor my worst – I was back out and towelling myself dry. I heard my phone ring mutely, so I tucked the towel round my hips and dripped my way into the lounge. The caller id told me it was Murphy. I cursed, loathing the wonderful timing that is my life, and answered reluctantly.

"Hey, Murphy," I groaned.

"Jesus, Harry, you sound depressed."

"Really?" I said, throwing sarcasm at her. It was the best attack I could use.

"I was just calling to check you were okay. I haven't heard from you in a while..."

Oh, thank god! No crimes! No murders! She just cares! Wait a minute...

"Since when were _you _concerned about _me_?"

"I'm concerned about the roof over your head, Dresden. You lose your place, you're homeless. If you're homeless, you either plead someone like me to take you in, which sucks, or you die in a gutter, and I need you on my cases. You know that."

"Oh, of course. Your concern for me is an extended concern for yourself. Well, I'm fine Murphy. Lacking in funds, sure, but I always scrape through."

"You really should consider getting a real job, Harry."

"And then what would you do without me, hm? I need to go now, Murph. Busy day."

"You mean, you haven't drunk enough Coke yet and you need to catch up on your daily quota."

"Essentially, yes. How did you know?"

"It's you, Harry. You're like a book."

"Firm on the outside and full of metaphors?"

"Shut up. I'm hanging up now," she said, doing just that.

I went back to the bathroom to check I'd shaved properly, then went to get dressed, putting on a seemingly clean shirt and some plain trousers. With some girls, it's hard to tell how you should dress. Sometimes they're a tux and gown girl; other times a torn jeans and a band tee. With Miss DeTamble, it was verging on impossible. Casual glamour – gorgeous but difficult.

Figuring I should let Bob know the good news, I went down to see him.

"Yoo-hooo, Bob," I called. Orange glow filled the sockets.

"What do you want? I was _sleeping_," he complained.

"I'm going on a date, Bobby! A real date with a _real pretty lady_!" I laughed loudly. I knew it would annoy him.

"Good for you. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"No, because real pretty isn't all she is," I said, ready to shock him into giving a crap. "She's a time traveller, Bob."

"Time travel, you say? How interesting," he said, glowing brighter. "How exactly does she achieve it?"

"She just disappears. Seems like she can go where she wants although I'm guessing that she goes places she doesn't want to as well. For some reason when she travels, everything she's wearing or carrying stays behind. She came to me asking if I could fix that, and really she'd only need me to fix that if she was popping up in random places stark naked and getting pretty embarrassed by it. After all, if she only did it on purpose she'd probably go at a time where no one would see and leave herself clothes, or something."

"It sounds very interesting, Harry. I can't say I've met one before, will you introduce me?"

"Sure, Bob. Not at first, you understand. You're a little bit creepy."

Bob sighed. "I'm going back to sleep now, Harry. I'll have a think about her situation for you later, since I can safely presume you won't be coming to talk to me for a while. It's how it is with you and women..."

"I love ya, Bob. Sleep tight," I said, heading back upstairs to settle down and read until seven pm came.


	3. Chapter 3

At two minutes to seven, a sharp knock on the door startled me out of a half doze. I hadn't pegged her as the early sort, but there you go. I struggled out of my chair towards the door, and was unpleasantly surprised that Miss DeTamble wasn't standing on the other side – no, the vague outline I could see through the misty glass was far too short and blonde.

"Murphy," I sighed, as I opened the door. "What are you doing here? Who died?"

"Uh, no one did," she said, trying to push past me into the apartment.

"No, you don't," I said firmly, blocking her. She glared up at me, questioning. "I'm expecting a visitor. I'd like you to leave now."

"You're expecting a woman, you mean."

"Yes. Whatever, can you just- oh, hello, Miss DeTamble," I said. She looked... well, stunning. The dress she wore was subtly sexy, with just the right amount of skin on show, clinging and skimming in all the right places. Her hair was pinned loosely to the back of her head, with gentle waves skimming her neck and shoulders. Her and Murphy made eye contact – they were sizing each other up. Oh, women...

"This is just a colleague of mines, Karrin Murphy. Karrin, this is-"

"Alba DeTamble," said the auburn beauty, holding out a slender hand. Karrin inspected it and shook it cautiously. Alba – what a fascinating name! It suited her, so unusual and musical.

"Yes. I was just checking on Harry, here. He was a bit occupied earlier; I suppose now I know why. Nice seeing you," Murphy said, marching away with a final "call me tomorrow, Harry."

"Well," Alba said, raising her eyebrows.

"Don't worry about her. She's a bit grumpy at times..."

"Seems to me like she has an adverse reaction to you dating," Alba said.

"Oh, no. She doesn't-"

"It's fine. I'm not implying she is attracted to you; rather, it seems like she is mothering you."

I suppressed a snort. Murphy – feeling maternal over me? It seemed unlikely, and yet... there was something about Alba that made me think she knew about this type of thing. I had no idea what she did for living... in fact, I knew very little about her, full stop.

"Come on, then; are you ready?" Alba asked. I nodded, stepping out and shutting the door behind me, locking it and slipping my keys in my pocket.

"So where are we going?" I asked, as we went down in the lift.

"A Chinese restaurant that I absolutely adore. You like Chinese food, don't you?" she asked, looking almost... hopeful.

"I do indeed like Chinese food. I like most food," I said. I was still admiring how beautiful she looked.

"Good. I like food, too. I cook most of it myself; my mother's never been a terribly good chef. In fact... it would be appropriate to say she's a terrible chef."

I couldn't help but laugh, but I could tell that was the reaction she was aiming for. She smiled in a satisfied way, as we exited the lift and approached her car. It was a neat little cadillac, but now I was starting to worry about the damage I might do to her car. Technology... well, it does not agree with me, at all. Things have a habit of breaking around me. She opened the passenger door for me, which disorientated me slightly. I slid in, pleased at it being spacious. Then again, Alba was a tall woman, so of course she'd want a spacious car. When she got in, she slipped the keys in and gave the engine a little rev.

"Are you comfortable? I put your chair back before I left home, I noticed your legs were very long."

"Yeah, it's great. My Beetle doesn't do this, but it's... well, old. Hey, could you keep the radio off?"

"I wasn't going to put it on, I want to talk to you without the clutter of music in my ears," she said, pulling out onto the road.

"Oh. What would you like to talk about?"

"You, of course. You're a wizard... that's fascinating. How does it work, being a wizard?"

"There's the White Council, and there are seven laws of magic. They're fairly obvious laws – don't kill anyone using music; don't transform other people; don't invade the minds of others; do not reach beyond the borders of life; do not swim against the Currents of Time; do not seek beyond the Outer Gates. If you break a law, the Warden is in charge of your punishment. Usually the punishment for breaking a law is death. Not for me though – oh, maybe I shouldn't have said that..."

Alba's mouth hung open. I hoped she didn't hate me now; I was going to have to tell her what I had done, and god knows I wouldn't fancy me after I found out.

"Those laws – that's so fascinating. I would never have imagined any of those things were possible, never mind illegal... what... what law did you break?"

I hoped that the breathlessness in her voice was not out of fear or anything like that.

"I killed someone, but it was manslaughter. The Warden who dealt with the case didn't see it that way... in fact, he looks for every excuse to get me to break a law."

"Manslaughter..." she whispered.

"God, that's a good way to start the first date," I said, dragging my fingers through my hair. I wanted to smash my head off the dash.

"No. I – I guess it's okay. I happen to... well, my father was killed by my grandfather, or my uncle. We don't know who fired the shot, because... well, it's hard to explain to them how my father time travelled into their lives. Manslaughter. It – well, I know now that what they did was an accident. I understand, even if I didn't in my youth."

"I... it wasn't really an accident that I killed Justin. He... he tried to enslave me, and when I was fighting back, he was killed. It wasn't intentional or an accident... do you understand what I mean?"

"A little. Was this a long time ago?" Alba asked.

"Yes, I guess it was," I said. She let out a gentle sigh and stopped the car. "Is this the part where you tell me to get the hell out of your life?"

"No... this is the part where we get out the car and eat Chinese food," she laughed, getting out. Sure enough, when I sprawled my way out of the car, I saw the shining banner of the restaurant, and smelled the glorious scents of Asian food.

"Wow, this place is beautiful," I said when we stepped inside. A cheerful, lean man led us to a table, handing us soft leather books – the menus – and taking our drink order. She ordered a white wine; I ordered a Coke.

"You... you don't drink alcohol?" she asked curiously, leaning towards me just enough for me to smell her musky perfume. Temptingly close...

"It's not that I don't drink it; I just like Coke. A lot," I said. Something about the tone I spoke in made her giggle. Her giggle was delightful.

"Listen. I don't expect you to pay any of the bill," she said.

"I can't let you pay everything," I said.

"You can always pay me back in other ways..." she said. My groin exploded; I had to squirm in my seat to contain myself. Damn, she was sexy.

"That seems awfully rushed," I said.

"I didn't say you were paying me back tonight, Dresden," she said, twirling a thin strand of hair round her finger. "If you were to leave it for a few days, your payment would probably... gain interest," she breathed. Oh, Jesus. She really knows how to twist a man around her finger.

"So... have you had many boyfriends?" I asked, desperately making conversation that wasn't leaking with innuendos.

"No, just a couple at high school and one at university. Emphasis on the _boy_."

"I see... and... why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're driving me wild and you know it," I said. She smirked.

"You know, I saw you. Before you shouted to me about the money. I felt strangely drawn to you, and if you hadn't done the thing with the money, I would have walked over and asked you on a date."

"You would have asked a complete stranger out on a date?" I asked, incredulous.

"Only you; trust me, I'd never do it to anyone else. Now, it's time for you to tell me why you can't look me in the eyes. Your eyes are so enthralling, I wish we could just make eye contact..."

"It's the Soul Gaze. When you look into the eyes of a wizard, you see his soul, and he sees yours. Do you really want to do that?"

"So, so badly," she said, staring into my eyes. "Please. Please look at me."

"You're telling me you want me to see your soul? To see everything you've done? You really want that?" I asked, my eyes fixed on her lips. Well, they were amazing lips, and they were about the only thing stopping me looking into her equally amazing eyes.

"Yes. Please? I won't treat you any differently; I already know your darkest secret."

"That's not what worries me," I said, but when her foot rubbed up my calf under the table, my willpower slid away and the soul gaze begun.

She looked mildly traumatised when it was over, and yet she leaned even closer, grabbing my hands and lacing her fingers through mine. I wasn't appalled by what I had seen, but fascinated. All those jumps through time, all those things she'd watched over and over, things she'd desperately wanted to change, even though it was impossible.

"What did _you _think?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to dump you. I still feel the same," I said. She let out a tiny sigh of relief, gripping my hands.

"Now then... ready to order?" she asked, as our waiter loomed close.

"As I'll ever be," I said. I'd forgotten how soft a woman's hands could be.


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: Yes, Alba does break one of the laws, "Thou shall not swim against the Currents of Time". However, it does say... somewhere... that to break the law, you use magic to alter time. Since Alba isn't a wizard, but time travels due to some sort of rogue gene, and she is physically unable to alter events when she's in the past, I personally think that she's in a loophole, so the Council can't do anything, unless she starts changing the past. Don't worry though, I'm not going to ignore the law – you can expect this to come up later in the story :)

On leaving the restaurant, I felt so supremely stuffed I could barely even burp. I'd felt an edge of guilt about letting her pay everything, but she insisted that she was paying everything. She seemed like the moderately wealthy type, due to the way she held her self and the way she spoke, while I was blatantly poor, not through my behaviour, but through the burn marks I found on the hem of my shirt and the curry stain on the collar (which, honestly, I have no idea how that got there; I haven't had curry for weeks).

"Did you have a nice evening?" she asked softly. We were in the car on the way back to mines now.

"Nice is an understatement, I had a great time. Will you, uh... be coming in?"

Her eyes were fixed on the road but I saw her thinking. Just then, her phone rang. I glimpsed at the caller id, which merely said "Clare".

"Uh, who's Clare?" I asked, as Alba flung the car into the side of the road to answer.

"My mother," she said, answering. "Hello? Hi. What's – oh. Oh. That's never – stop interrupting me! Okay, look... I'm on my way over." She hung up.

"I guess that's a no to the first question," I said.

"I'm sorry – but hey, now you get interest on your repayment?" she said, smiling coyly.

"Well, when you put it _that _way..." I said, laughing a little. I desperately wanted to know what was going on, but she didn't look in the mood to tell me. We pulled upside my apartment and I let myself out, not expecting her to get out with me.

"I'll walk you up."

"You're really being very unconventional tonight. You're doing everything the man's supposed to."

"Unconventional and proud," Alba said.

When we were at the door, we stopped for a moment. She looked up at me – although she didn't have to look far – and smiled. I wanted to ask when I would see her again, but I didn't want to sound... needy.

"I'll call you tomorrow morning, okay? If I haven't called before noon, then call me. Can you remember that?"

"Well, I'll try," I said, scrunching up my face. She laughed.

"I'll be seeing you," she said, kissing me very lightly on the mouth and walking away. I fumbled my way into the apartment, still watching her as she turned and waved a little from the lift before she got in. Thoughts did not exist in my mind; rather, they'd been replaced by a blabbering noise which I couldn't shake. I cracked open a can of Coke, shook off my clothes and climbed into bed, sipping and smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

Dresden Files/Time Traveller's Wife Chapter Five

I woke up feeling like someone had filled my mouth with sand over night. I reached out of bed to shake the many cans near my bed, but not one had a single drop of liquid in it.

"Damnit," I said, kicking my way out of bed and padding into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of water and downed it in one, but my mouth still felt dry. I didn't even know what time it was.

"Dresden," bellowed a voice. It's safe to say that I crapped myself. I dropped the empty glass on the floor, but it survived the fall, somehow, and rolled off until it hit the wall.

"Er, hello?" I croaked. I couldn't see a single thing, and yet the bellowing had sounded so... close. I crept out of the kitchen and let out a pained sigh.

Morgan was standing in my lounge – well, he was actually standing on the door that he had knocked down.

"You know, I hope you're going to fix that. I know for a fact I've done nothing wrong this time."

"I have word that there was time travel in this very room."

"Christ, Morgan, that was _yesterday_. Busy day at the office, or were you just too lazy to get here straight away? No, it can't be laziness, because you look for _any _excuse to have me executed."

"Do not mess around, wizard."

"Look, I didn't do any time travelling. Okay? I don't know how, and I'm pretty sure if you do some investigating you will see that I've not made or drank any potion that could enable me to do so. Although, I'd rather you left the investigating part out because I can see you turning this whole place upside down, even if you don't think you'll find something at the end of it."

"If you didn't time travel then who did? You know fine well-"

"Yes, yes, it's against the Seven Laws, Thou Shalt Not Swim Against The Currents of Time. She wasn't using magic, though, and she can't alter the past, and I'm _pretty _sure that breaking the law is when you use magic to change the past."

Morgan looked a teensy bit stumped; I was jubilant.

"I'm going to need to go to the Council about this," Morgan said.

"Go, do. They can't touch her, because she's not part of our world... our community, whatever. Plus, I'm going to say it's a genetic disorder because her father was one too. Funny how you never hunted _him_ down? Or her, before now? It's _almost _as if you've got me under constant supervision, in a desperate attempt to catch me breaking a law in the minutest aspect and getting me killed for it. Don't you think?"

Morgan frowned, but his eyes said it all.

"Maybe I'll go to the Council and complain about being scrutinised so... what's the word? Excessively?"

"There's no need for that."

"There's no need to go tattling on my friend, either."

"We'll be keeping an eye on you. The slightest _whiff_ of you attempting time travel, I will be here to crush you like the vermin you are," Morgan said, storming out.

"Aren't you going to fix my door, you idiotic brute?" I shouted, but there was no reply. I cursed under my breath, and set about putting my door back on its hinges.

I was startled when the phone rang, and then I remembered that two women had promised to call me in the morning. I knew which one I wanted it to be; I knew which one it would be.

"Hello, Murphy," I sighed.

"What's gotten into you, Harry? This woman seems to be making you miserable."

"She's not. You are. I'm expecting her to call me and I'd rather you weren't on the line so I didn't miss her."

"Are you in love with her, Dresden?" Murphy exclaimed. Too loud. Ow.

"No, Murph, I'm not. Who knows, maybe she is the one, but right now I would like you to hang up the phone and leave me be, since I just spent fifteen minutes reattaching my door to its frame, so I'm kind of tired."

"Harry – what? Your door?"

"Shush, Murph. I'll call you at, I don't know, one. Okay?"

"I gue-"

"Okay, bye," I said, hanging up. I didn't want to be rude. I just didn't want to miss the call.

The time trawled by. I sat in partial misery and partial ignorance, looking vacantly at one of my books. I started to wonder if Murphy was getting at something... love isn't something I know very much about, but... I don't know, love is a woman thing, right? They know all about it... they read books about it, watch films about it, like songs about it... they even follow the lives of people falling in and out of it, in the media.

The phone rang. I leapt up, then I paused. If I answered too quickly, I might seem desperate.

Then again, waiting too long might seem like I don't care.

I lunged at the phone and snatched it up.

"Hello, Harry Dresden speaking," I said autonomously.

"I'd certainly hope so," said the silky voice.

"Alba?"

"Yup. I did say I'd phone, right? That did happen? I mean, I know I was a bit tipsy but surely I wasn't _that _dru-"

"No, I know, it did happen. Amongst... other things."

"Yes, I know. I do remember, I just... ugh, I'm verging on rambling so I'll get to the point. I want to see you tonight."

"Oh really?"

"Don't toy with me, Dresden. I can come pick you up at seven again, or earlier, if you like."

"You can come to mines, and I'll cook you dinner."

"You're going to cook for me?" I was asking myself the same question. Damn you mouth, and your inability to ask my permission before you blurt things out.

"Of course I will... I can't promise you on quality, but-"

"No, don't worry, that sounds lovely. I'll come round at seven?"

"Yeah, sure," I said. As we said farewells I was fumbling for shoes, my duster and some money to go buy some ingredients for what was likely to be a car crash of a meal.

At five to seven I was running around the kitchen like a headless chicken, as they say. I can't imagine that chickens with no heads would really feel like running around, but hey.

I was cooking bolognese, and while it smelled alright, I wasn't so sure about it. The spaghetti was overcooked, slipping around the plates like fat, juicy worms trying to escape, and no doubt going cold. I tipped one heap wiggly heap onto the other and put the plate into the microwave to heat them up a bit, while having a quick taste of the meaty saucy part. A little bit more salt... grab the pasta out of the microwave...

A delicate, firm knock on the door. Alba was here. I suddenly realised that maybe dinner shouldn't have been served the second she came in, but there wasn't much I could do unless she wanted to eat it cold.

I dove at the door to let her in, hoping she didn't notice the smudges of bolognese sauce on my shirt.

"Hello, Dresden. Something smells delightful," she said, stepping around me and waiting patiently for me to close the door. She had removed her coat and was holding it, looking around for some place to put it.

"Let me take that; you grab a seat in the kitchen. I don't really have a dining table... long story..."

"That's alright," she said, dancing off towards the smell. I went through to my room, snatching a coat hanger from the floor and hanging her coat from the back of my door.

She was standing over the hob when I went to the kitchen, gently spooning the bolognese onto the spaghetti.

"You didn't have to do that," I said, standing beside her.

"I know, but I didn't want it to burn or anything." She finished dealing out the bolognese, and pushed the plate holding slightly more towards me.

"Forks are already out, just grab a stool," I said, twisting myself awkwardly to sit against the counter.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye while I ate to gage her opinion. She didn't seem to love it, but she didn't spit it out in disgust either.

"It's not bad," she said. "Maybe a little bit salty?"

"Sorry. I guess not bad's a compliment for me..."

"Oh, I hope you're not offended! I just meant... well..."

"Sh, it's okay. So um, what did your Mom want last night?"

"It's, ah, complicated," she said, looking away.

"Please?"

"Well, because I time travel involuntarily most of the time – the intentional travelling is a recent skill, but I can't actually stop myself sometimes. One of my... was it past? No, no, it was my future self. She didn't say where she was from, but she's not too far away."

"Oh... and?"

"She – I – was passed out on my Mom's doorstep when she went to take the rubbish out. Covered in, er, blood. She panicked at first, thinking it was present me, but she realised that I – she – was naked, and figured it was me from another time. She called because she was scared to move me... her..."

Blood? Passed out? What the hell's going to happen to her? And what if it's... my fault?

"Was she – were you – are you – alright?"

"Yes. Mom and I were with her all night. Until around two am, and then she left. She didn't say much... I don't like to warn myself. She said your name an awful lot though." Alba stared intently at her spaghetti, twisting it around her fork over and over and over again.

"What... well, your Mom? What did you tell her, about... me?"

"That I'm dating you," she said, so casually that I nearly choked on thin air. She heard the splutter and swivelled in her seat to look at me. "Think about it. 'Well, Mom, he's trying to figure out how to stop me time travelling'. That will make her worry, because she'll think you... you do something to me directly. Whatever it is that will cause me to be like that. Now, if she knows I'm dating you – which I am – then she will assume that, say, we're in a relationship in the future, and I'm saying your name because I want to see you. Don't you think the latter is better for her?"

"I get it... not lying, just not telling all of the truth."

"Exactly," she said. She reached out to touch my hand, poking her fingers through mines. "You're worried. Don't be. I swear, there is nothing you can possibly do to change what will happen. Don't try to rethink things to prevent anything. Okay?"

I nodded in agreement, but there wouldn't be any way for me to not reconsider everything I said and did. Every thought that passed my mind, I'd be thinking about the consequences.

We finished the spaghetti in silence, fingers still entwined.

"So about your repayment..." Alba said.


End file.
